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White Boots Marching in a Yellow Land  Phil Ochs

The pilots playi[C]ng poker in the co[Am]ckpit of the plane[F],[C]
[Am]the casualties arriving[F] like the dropping of[Dm] the rain.
[C]And a mountain of mach[Am]inery will fal[F]l before a man,[G]
[C]when you're white[F] boots marching in a[G] yellow [C]land
[C]It's written in t[Am]he ashes of the vil[F]lage towns we burn,[C]
[Am]it's written in the em[F]pty beds of fath[Dm]ers unreturned.
[C]And the chocolate in th[Am]e children?s eyes will neve[F]r understand,[G]
[C]when you're white[F] boots marching in a[G] yellow [C]land.
[Am]Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
[G]the morning has arrived, you must be gone.
[F]And the lost patrol chase their char[G]tered souls,
[C]like old whores following tire[Bb]d armies.[-] [C]
[C]Train them well, the men who[Am] will be fighting by yo[F]ur side,[C]
[Am]and never turn yo[F]ur back, if the battl[Dm]e turns the tide,
[C]for the colours [Am]of a civil war are [F]louder than commands,[G]
[C]when you're white[F] boots marching in a[G] yellow [C]land.
[C]Blow them from the forest a[Am]nd burn them fr[F]om your sight,[C]
[Am]tie their hands behind their backs,[F] and question through the ni[Dm]ght.
[C]But when the firing sq[Am]uad is ready, they'll be spitting wh[F]ere they stand,[G]
[C]at the white boot[F]s marching in a yel[G]low land.[C]
[Am]Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
[G]the morning has arrived, you must be gone.
[F]And the lost patrol chase their char[G]tered souls,
[C]like old whores following tire[Bb]d armies.[-] [C]
[C]The comic and the bea[Am]uty queen are dancing on t[F]he stage,[C]
[Am]raw recruits are lini[F]ng up like coff[Dm]ins in a cage.
[C]Oh, we're fightin[Am]g in a war we lost be[F]fore the war began,[G]
[C]we're the white [F]boots marching in a [G]yellow l[C]and.
[Am]Red blow the bugles of the dawn,
[G]the morning has arrived you must be gone.
[F]And the lost patrol chase their char[G]tered souls,
[C]like old whores following tire[Bb]d armies.[-] [C]

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